


a troubled mind drave me to walk abroad

by michelle_does



Category: Romeo & Juliet - Takarazuka Revue, Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelle_does/pseuds/michelle_does
Summary: a tale of bad family dinners at prince escalus' home
Relationships: Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Kudos: 8





	a troubled mind drave me to walk abroad

The setting sun created a rose-colored haze over the sky. It had been a fairly uneventful day, even more boring than the usual days in Verona. Benvolio picked up some small stones beside him and skipped them across the dirt, desperate to pass the time. 

As he reached for the last pebble a familiar pair of boots appeared in its path. He looked up to see his normally wild-eyed friend, however Mercutio’s face now seemed more distressed than anything else. He’d been like this a lot lately, but Benvolio couldn’t get an answer out of him as to why.

Benvolio watched as Mercutio’s mischievous smile quickly returned to his face. In his hand was a piece of parchment.

“Get up, lazy,” Mercutio said, kicking him gently, “We’re going to a _dinner_.” He threw the paper in front of him. Benvolio could see a hastily scribbled note to Mercutio requesting his attendance at the Prince’s tonight.

“Looks like _you_ have a dinner to attend,” Benvolio responded, “there’s nothing about me in that note.”

“You think I’m going to go alone? And let you skip out on all the fun?” Mercutio laughed as he put the paper into his pocket. 

Benvolio sighed, whatever this was about it probably wouldn’t be fun or something he should attend. If the Prince requested your presence it usually meant he needed something from only you. But before he could express any of these concerns aloud, Mercutio had started down the road.

_Well, at least if I’m there I can try and reel him in,_ he thought. Benvolio took a deep breath to prepare for the night ahead and followed Mercutio down the road.

~~~~~

The sound of silverware on porcelain plates filled the dining room of the Prince’s manor. In fact, it was the only sound in the room since they had arrived. As suspected, the Prince was not pleased to see that Mercutio had brought along an uninvited guest. Regardless of who he was, Benvolio knew that the Prince hated rule breaking. Tensions continued to fill the room as wine filled their glasses.

“Oh I am _so_ sorry I’m late,” an exuberant voice called into the room, “you would not believe how hard it was to get here?” Looking up from the table Benvolio could see the shining, gaudy appearance of Paris. Beside him, he could hear Mercutio’s absent-minded attempt to cut his plate in half. He carefully placed a hand on his arm, trying to bring him back to reality.

Paris sat across from them and, like a magician, made his full glass of wine disappear instantly. Benvolio sighed, preparing for the almost guaranteed blowout that would come from this building tension.

“So kind of you to join us Paris,” the Prince started, “you’re only 45 minutes late this time, that’s almost on time.” He sat back in his chair, carefully evaluating each of the three in front of him.

“Well hello cousin,” Paris shot an aggressive smile across the table at Mercutio, “glad to see you brought your favorite puppy along this time.” Before Benvolio could react, Mercutio had kicked Paris from under the table. The two pulled back into their chairs, with a sharp stare at one another.

“Stop, it’s fine,” Benvolio tightened his grip on Mercutio’s arm, “behave, please.” He shot a pleading stare into Mercutio’s eyes.

“Anyway, we are here to celebrate tonight,” the Prince said, ignoring the actions of the cousins, “as Paris, is going to get married.” He raised his glass of wine and smiled at the table. Paris happily raised his own glass and smiled.

“Oh,” Benvolio tried to sound excited while cautiously raising his own glass, “to who?”

“A Capulet,” the Prince replied, “Juliet Capulet. It’s a wonderful opportunity for them both, very exciting.”

“Bet that’s really great for your Paris,” Mercutio sneered, grabbing his glass, “being so close to that Lord Capulet and Tybalt… makes it easy to bounce from room to room, huh?” Paris quickly stood and tossed his glass across the table. Mercutio stared coldly back at him.

“Boys…” the Prince said, exhausted, “can we please just finish this dinner?”

“No, actually,” Paris started, his gaze unmoving from Mercutio, “I’ve got somewhere to be. Thanks for the dinner.” He walked toward the door hurriedly. 

“Give my regards to Tybalt,” Mercutio called from across the room.

“Mercutio…” Benvolio shot him a look. Mercutio adjusted in his chair once more, laughing to himself. The Prince placed his head in his hands, sighing deeply at the end of the table.

“Well I, for one, am happy for Paris,” the Prince said as he stood from his seat, “it could have been you, Mercutio. But I guess there wasn’t ever much hope for that.” He started toward the door as well, stopping before the door.

“Don’t come back here, Mercutio,” he added flatly as he left.

Mercutio sank further into his seat as he finished off the bottle of wine. He tossed it across the table, twisting his face as he did. Benvolio stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to gather his attention.

“Come on, let’s leave,” Benvolio said steadily. Mercutio quickly followed, kicking his chair down beneath him. Benvolio gave him space as he watched the tears grow in the corners of his eyes. Whatever had been bothering him, was catching up quickly to Mercutio in this moment. He’d surely hear about it tonight, or never. Benvolio had to make peace with the fact that Mercutio gave as much or as little information as he wanted on his own terms.

Walking down the road, beneath the moonlight, Benvolio reflected on the night they’d had. He wanted to give Mercutio something, anything, to comfort him. But the person next to him was too far gone for even him to know how to help anymore.

~~~~~

The sun beat down on the road, creating an unbearable heat. Benvolio looked at the dirt covering the ground, he could nearly see the retreating footsteps of Mercutio from a week before. Or, perhaps, he was lying to himself. But for this moment, Benvolio let himself believe that this ghostly evidence was still there. He clutched the parchment in his pocket, looking up at the manor in front of him. He braced himself as he opened the door.

“Ah, Benvolio,” the Prince grimly smiled at him from the table, “thank you for coming.” Benvolio silently took his seat at the table, the chairs still set from the week prior. There was a shallow cold beside him, in the chair that would never be filled.

The door opened slowly and Paris appeared, looking dull against his bright clothing. He nodded to the two of them and took his seat, a different view from his mischievous smile the week before.

“Are there any others?” a member of the manor staff asked, looking at the place setting beside Benvolio. The Prince shook his head silently and the food was brought out shortly after. Despite the smells and delicious looking meal in front of them, not a single one of the three touched their food. Instead they sat in silence, the sound of silverware pushing food over porcelain plates filled the dining room.

Benvolio looked across the table as he heard a quiet sigh from Paris, he could see tears filling the corners of his eyes. He looked so much like his cousin, more than he probably realized. Benvolio steadied his breathing. He _knew_ this wasn’t Mercutio.

“I know you don’t want to be here,” the Prince said flatly, “either of you.” He looked grimly at them both. He sighed back into his untouched plate, his breath catching in his throat.

“I’m sorry about Tybalt,” Benvolio muttered across from him. Paris looked up, tears falling to the table. He wasn’t doing well, that was clear. But it’s not like the two of them had ever been close, Benvolio couldn’t help here… he couldn’t help anywhere anymore.

“I’m sorry about Mercutio,” Paris sputtered out in reply, “we didn’t get along but… he didn’t deserve… he didn’t…” He collapsed into his seat, breaking into small sobs. 

Benvolio looked between Paris and the Prince who had begun crying too. Breathing deeply, he knew he needed to stay composed here. Everything in him wanted to break down, to cry, to scream or even throw something, but he couldn’t. He could do these things later, not here.

“Every week,” Benvolio began to speak up confidently, “we meet here every week.” His two dinner companions stopped their crying briefly, staring at him confused. There wasn’t much he could do anymore, Verona felt so empty to Benvolio now, but maybe this… this could be something that he could do. 

Paris and the Prince nodded to him in agreement, the sorrow hanging in the air. Their expressions were still fairly unchanged, but they seemed slightly calmed by the thought of a new routine.

“Alright, I’ll see you next week then.” Benvolio rose from his seat, he couldn’t stay composed here. The tears began to fall as he opened the manor doors. He stepped out onto the road, just as he had a week earlier. The cool, night breeze felt like a phantom companion beside him. He remembered how badly he’d wanted to help Mercutio that night. All the things he’d wanted to say.

He would never keep in his thoughts again.


End file.
